


Wait Your Turn

by latinaeinstein (oneforyourfire)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 13:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16893912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/latinaeinstein
Summary: It's a beautiful kind of torture





	Wait Your Turn

**Author's Note:**

> 2014 repost

They're usually better about this. Better at _sharing_.

Because it’s never been about favorites with them. It’s never been about doubt, insecurity, ownership. Except when it _is_. Except when Tao feels especially needy, especially possessive. Except when Sehun feels especially vulnerable, or especially entitled. They’re too similar, in that sense. Too _demanding_. Too prone to petulance.

They’re usually _better_ about this.

But Tao had cornered him as soon as he’d kicked off his shoes. Still dressed in his work clothes, too—but wrinkled, tie loosened, shirt tails hanging out of his slacks—but peeling them off quickly, pressing until Joonmyun’s back crashed against picture frames. Vacation shots from their latest trip to Milan. Wide crinkling smiles hidden behind oversized sunglasses, Tao tan, Sehun practically translucent—practically _glowing_ , Tao had teased—Joonmyun red and peeling. And Joonmyun groans into his mouth as Tao’s fingers trace over the buttons of his own shirt.

And Joonmyun realizes later, that that should have been a _sign_. Because it’s nothing so crude as a _schedule_. But Tao is usually too tired, drained on weekdays. And if Joonmyun is so lucky, it’s usually Sehun, not Tao—kissing him, grinding insistently against his thigh.

But they’re usually _better_ about this and Tao’s tongue is curling around his, his fingers cupping him just right, so Joonmyun doesn’t question it. As he kisses back even harder, rolls upward into the warm pressure of Tao’s palm. Mind clouded with pleasure, body buzzing with arousal, he closes his eyes as he moans.

His eyes blink open in surprise when Tao is torn away. Tao stumbles back, crashing over the back of the coach.

And then there’s Sehun—in his fucking _boxers_ —falling forward unceremoniously, body curving to lick at Joonmyun’s neck. “Me,” he murmurs hotly against the skin. “ _Me_ , hyung.”

 

And they’re usually better about this, but it’s a heady kind of affirmation, a beautiful kind of torture as Sehun drops to his knees, and Tao—indignant, shoving at Sehun’s shoulder—recovers, returns.

Tao is nuzzling at his hipbone then, nosing to just the right of his stirring cock, trying to draw attention back to him with a breathy “daddy,” and Sehun’s fingers are skating up his thighs, grazing over straining flesh as he lets out this pitchy drawn out “hyung.” Joonmyun’s breath hitches as his hands fall—heavy, clumsy—threading through matching black locks.

“Sehun,” he groans. “ _Tao_.”

And Tao tugs his shirt loose, mouths along the waistband of his boxers, sloppy and warm and urgent, shoving Sehun away as the younger tries to slip his fingers inside his slacks. And there’s a “pay attention to me, _only_ to me” in every teasing, deliberate caress, every deliberate moan. A dizzingly erotic tit for tat.

“We should—should—kai bai bo,” Sehun breathes, as he pulls down Joonmyun’s pants. “But I want it—more, Tao—I want it more.” And _fuck_ that’s kinda hot as Tao protests, humming against his thigh, tongue dragging warm and wet and wide.

“You want it? Both of you?” Joonmyun moans. “Wanna— _fuck_ —suck me off?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tao groans. “ _Yes_.”

“Always,” Sehun counters, sucking on his hipbone. “ _Always_ , hyung.”

And their anger—their jealousy, their sudden, desperate need for approval—makes them more aggressively sexual, has them skipping formalities, cutting straight to their best moves. Tao spares one succulent kiss to suddenly too-tight boxers, lips searing, indulgent, before peeling them off. Taking him into his mouth.

Tao works with a certain finesse. Performative. Beautiful. Calculated. Purposefully obscene. In every slick bob, every tantalizing deliberate lick along the tip of Joonmyun’s cock. He puffs out his lips, licks along them like he savors the taste of Joonmyun in his mouth. Like he fucking _lives_ for this. He has Joonmyun cursing huskily. Whispering reverently. He’s so _beautiful_. He’s so _perfect_. His _baby_.

Sehun moves him bodily, broad shoulders urging until he can take over.

And Sehun is deliberate, too. In a different way. He knows how to drag it out. How to curl his fingers as he licks along the base. Knows how to blink up through his eyelashes. Knows how to chase Joonmyun’s cock with his mouth, knows how to moan just against the trembling flesh.

It’s the most beautiful, exquisite kind of torture. When they’re working against each other. Even with the occasional shove, the occasional curse, the rhythm, the dual simulation has Joonmyun barreling towards orgasm.

Sehun moans—in pain—and Tao leans forward, smiles against Joonmyun’s cock, eyelids fluttering prettily, eyes shining with triumph as Joonmyun curls his fingers in his dark hair. Drags Sehun back.

And Sehun licks along his balls. Panting against him. He arches suddenly, fluid, and Joonmyun doesn’t have to look down to know he’s touching himself. Sehun’s breathy sighs blossom into moans, splinter and dissolve into whimpers.

“Fu—fuck Sehun,” he groans.

“Fuck my mouth,” Sehun urges. Voice all breathy and wrecked. “Fuck my mouth, hyung, _please_.”

At his side, Tao is murmuring Joonmyun’s name. Switching to Mandarin, which is not _fair_ because it makes everything sound filthy. Makes everything sound forbidden.

Sehun closes his lips tightly over the head of his cock, humming. Elbow cocked, keeping Tao at bay. Tao takes to sucking at his thigh, blowing over the saliva-slick skin, teasing higher and higher until Joonmyun is gasping. Jerking upwards, legs spreading.

And Sehun swirls his tongue along the crown of his cock, eyes dark, hazy. He’s never this enthusiastic, never this fluid, never this sensual. He usually fights it. Makes Joonmyun, Tao work for it. Until he’s good and pliant and gasping, trembling from arousal. But he’s offering it so freely now. Dizzingly receptive and needy and eager. As he licks Joonmyun slow and filthy and perfect. Oh _fuck_ he’s gonna come.

“I could probably come like this,” Sehun rasps suddenly. “Sucking you off. Your cock in my mouth, my own in my hand.”

Zitao moans at that, too. Loud, desperate. He breathes out a reverent curse and then a soft, “not fair” as Joonmyun’s entire body bows, climax washing over him with a sharp inhale of breath.

And then Tao is twisting, pressing Sehun back into the carpet, and Sehun is releasing a hitching whine. Tangling his fingers in Tao’s hair, bucking up into his touches as Tao grinds down hard. Eyes hazy, breathing labored, Joonmyun watches as Tao bites down on Sehun’s neck, digs the heel of his palm against the ridge of Sehun’s erection. And Sehun sobs through climax, whimpering his name. As Tao continues to undulate, lithe and smooth and eager, before he jerks, tenses, whimpers.

Sehun murmurs sleepily about how hungry he is, after he comes down, and Tao laughs, kisses his cheek. Sehun groans, but breathes back a soft, indulgent “I love you.”

And that’s more like how they usually are. _Better_. And Joonmyun smiles down at them as he waits for sensation to return to his limbs.


End file.
